


Part Two: The Cannibal in the Villa

by HermaiaMoira



Series: Il Doctore: a Hannibal/Spartacus crossover [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV), Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Alternate Universe - Gladiators, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Anal Sex, Branding, Cannibalism, F/M, M/M, Vaginal Fingering, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 14:07:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2272623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermaiaMoira/pseuds/HermaiaMoira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is part two of the Hannibal Ancient Rome alternate universe series, "Il Doctore." Will struggles to maintain ownership of the gladiator Hannibal. He also finds himself shocked by the increasing depravity of his own desires. In the meantime, Will's foes fall one by one under suspicious circumstances and Aeliana becomes nervous. Senator Metellus, from the Spartacus series, appeals to Will to help fund an auxiliary and quash Spartacus' rebellion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Part Two: The Cannibal in the Villa

**Author's Note:**

> Some helpful words:  
> Vilicus--the head slave of a household, who oversees other slaves in the house and field  
> Familia urbana--slaves who have a higher social status than most free citizens, due to the status of the household that owns them  
> Villa rustica--a large house on a farm  
> Cubiculum--a small private room used as a study, etc.  
> Lacerna--a long strip of cloth draped over the tunic, to create the fully-clothed effect  
> Byssus cloth--also known as "sea silk" is a fabric woven from the fibrous secretions of clams which is very fine, rare, and extremely expensive, sought after by ancient nobility

Hannibal took to his position of doctore with astounding adeptness. Will set up a nice room for him at the back of the villa, with an exit near the yard to the barracks, and instructed Octavio to treat him with status equal to that of vilicus. He seemed reticent, but after weeks went by and the mercenaries he had found in Rome began to act like soldiers of valor and respectability, he appreciated the former gladiator’s presence in the villa. Octavio was a foreigner himself, captured at a young age and forced into slavery, much like Hannibal. The two shared stories of life abroad; of poverty, hunger, fear, and death. What they also had in common was a sense of gratitude, for the house they ended up in was a veritable oasis amidst enslavement.

After the encounter in the bath, Will felt a bit awkward around Hannibal, and spent a great deal of his time watching him from afar or going to Aeliana’s domus in the city. Today he looked out from his balcony and saw the man sitting with Octavio on a rustic bench beside the barracks’ fire pit. Octavio had brought him some of the good wine from the villa, in favor of the swill the mercenaries had on hand. They were smiling and drinking it together. He came down and they stood as he walked up to them.

“Dominus,” they both said.

“I hope you do not mind,” said Octavio, “I have brought Hannibal something better to drink, and we shared a moment of leisure together.”

“It’s absolutely fine,” Will said, smiling, “I am glad to see you two are becoming friends.”

“Thank you, Dominus,” Octavio replied. “Hannibal and I come from nearly opposite directions, but we share a common knowledge of strife.”

“I see,” Will replied.

He looked at Hannibal with concern. Octavio didn’t speak much about his past, generally keeping his private matters to himself, but he had overheard his father tell a few of Octavio’s stories secondhand to others. They were stories about families living in the cruelest of conditions, hiding from battling clans and slavers, cowering in the dark and cold, with no relief in sight. The thought that Hannibal could have stories of his own to match Octavio’s weighed heavy on his heart.

“We bear the marks of our lives,” Hannibal said. “Some we wear with honor, others with resentment. This leads me to what I would like to ask of you.”

“Go on,”

Hannibal looked at Octavio, who excused himself and went back to the villa.

“I bear the brand of Fredo Ligare, on my forearm,” Hannibal said. He pulled away his wrist-guard and revealed the initials “FL.”

Will winced and touched the blistered scar, long healed over the years.

“I do not desire to wear this brand any longer,” he said. “I would prefer the mark of my new dominus.”

“I do not brand my slaves,” Will said, “neither did my father.”

“Perhaps you would do me the favor of allowing me to transform this brand into something reflecting your house?”

“You may,” Will replied. He sat down on the bench and gestured Hannibal to sit next to him.

“Thank you, Dominus,” Hannibal said. Will looked over at him, enjoying the heat that Hannibal’s naturally warm body gave off. He noticed raised hash-marks covering all of his back.

“These are not gladiator scars,” Will said, running his fingers over them.

“No,” Hannibal replied, “Those are the scars of an errant young slave.”

“They are numerous,” Will said in a soft voice, mesmerized by the evidence of repeated lashings.

“When I was captured and brought into Rome, years ago, I was… difficult. I refused to take orders. When I was spoken to in a way I didn't care for, I didn't hide my contempt.”

Hannibal looked out at the barracks yard, at the soldiers now under his authority.

“Those first few weeks, I believe I was whipped every day.”

Will had no words to express; he only kept his hands on Hannibal’s back. He wanted to kiss his scars and worship his body and give him comfort. But he held back while out in the yard. Even after Hannibal had taken him, he felt uncomfortable acknowledging it.

“When I was sold to Fredo Ligare, he was warned that I was a trouble-maker. Immediately upon being taken to the ludus, he ordered Doctore Ren to beat me, for no other reason than to let me know what my place would be.”

“I am sorry for your suffering,” Will said.

“I am not,” Hannibal replied. “I’m the man I am today because of what I have endured. I have learned self-control, temperance, and humility.”

“I admire your outlook,” Will replied.

“Octavio tells me of your father’s kindness,” Hannibal said.

Will nodded.

“He was a good man.”

“I am sorry to hear that he passed away. That must have been very difficult, for a young man, to lose his only parent.”

“It was,” he said. “But he left me with kind words.”

Hannibal looked at him with interest.

“That he loved me, no matter what,” Will told him.

“No matter what…” Hannibal responded curiously. “Not simply that he loved you?”

“He asked a few things of me, from my future life. But, he knew that they would be hard for me so he wanted me to know that even if I failed, he loved me.”

“What did he ask of you?”

Will cleared his throat and shifted his feet in the dirt.

“He wanted me to be a political person, like him, more social. Also he wished for me to be married and have children.”

“These are hard accomplishments for you?”

Will chuckled.

“I am introverted. Also, I don’t think it’s any secret to you that I prefer the company of men.”

“You do not care for women at all?”

“Ehh…” Will replied. “It is not as, pressing a need, shall we say. There is a young woman I am courting. I do care for her. I can see myself loving her. I enjoy… kissing her.”

“But it isn't with quite the same passion.” Hannibal said.

“No, not really.”

“Your father knew that about you?”

“Yes, he told me…” Will said with a dry laugh, “He told me that they didn't have teeth down there.”

Hannibal smiled, but then his face grew serious again.

“Your father gave you tasks that he knew were not in your nature to perform, that he knew would lead to a lack of satisfaction in your life. He told you he loved you no matter what, immediately after giving you conditions for his approval.”

Will looked at Hannibal with surprise. He didn't have a reply.

Octavio returned to them.

“Dominus, Aeliana Flos has arrived.”

“Wonderful!” Will exclaimed, standing up. “I would like to introduce her to Hannibal.”

The two of them walked inside of the villa. Aeliana was waiting in the atrium, sitting upon a bench and reading. She stood, wrapped her arms around Will’s neck, and kissed him on the cheek. Then she stared at Hannibal, unsure of what to do.

“This is Hannibal, Aeliana.”

“Very pleased to meet you, Madame Flos,” Hannibal said with an elegant bow. She smiled.

“The pleasure is mine.”

He held out his hand and she hesitated for a moment before handing it to him. He kissed it gently.

“What are you reading?” Will asked.

“Sappho,” Aeliana replied. “I thought you might enjoy being read to this evening.”

“Very much.”

“You are a fan of love-themed poetry, Madame?” Hannibal asked.

“Yes, obsessively,” Aeliana chuckled. “Although I don’t know that I would use the word ‘love’ to describe what the narrator in The Hymn to Aphrodite feels.” She gestured at the page in the book she held open.

“Sappho pines for another woman,” Hannibal said. He glanced at Will. “She would summon the goddess herself to have her love reciprocated.”

“She entreats the goddess to fight a battle for her, to subdue the woman she desires, as one would conquer a nation with the help of a great commander,” Aeliana held up the book and read, “’Now she doesn't love you, but soon her heart will burn, though _unwilling_.’ It is coercion. Sappho doesn't care if the woman loves her naturally; she only wants to possess her.”

Hannibal’s eyes were alive. Aeliana looked up at him and realized that she had been discussing Classical Greek poetry with a man who lived in a cage and ate human hearts for a roaring crowd. She was intrigued.

“What I appreciate about Sappho is her lack of sentimentality and affectation,” Hannibal replied. “She speaks of love as a thing of cruel abuse, a struggle to possess and a yearning to be possessed, but there is no irony within.”

“Very cynical,” Aeliana said with a smile.

“Depends on your perspective, I suppose,” Hannibal replied.

“I must admit, Hannibal,” she said, “You are a remarkable gladiator.”

“Ah,” Hannibal sighed, and smiled at Will. His eyes crinkled happily. “But I am not a gladiator anymore.”

“Yes,” Will answered, putting a hand on Hannibal’s back. “You are doctore.”

Will couldn't be happier with how the introduction was going. Perhaps he really could have everything he wanted in this life.

“Which reminds me, I must get back to it. Madame Flos, it was an honor.” He bowed to her once more and returned to his work.

“Well!” Aeliana said after he left. “He certainly is surprising.”

“You doubted my words?” asked Will, grinning.

“Do you blame me?” Aeliana laughed. “You forget the only other interactions I had with him were quite disturbing.”

“Well, now you meet the real man.”

“It is good that you rescued him,” Aeliana said.

“Yes, thank the gods,” Will whispered.

Octavio approached them again.

“Dominus, Senator Cassius Porcius is here to speak with you.”

“Porcius?” Will asked, furrowing his brow. “Why is he here?”

Aeliana shook her head.

“He is waiting in the yard… with Fredo Ligare.”

“Ah, Fredo is well again, I assume,” Aeliana said.

“What is this about?” Will wondered aloud, and they stepped outside.

Cassius was overlooking the barracks yard, where Hannibal trained with the men. Fredo was leaning on his cane, now actually needing it to walk with, rather than just enjoying it as a fashion accessory. With them was Rufina, who looked positively giddy as she stared at Hannibal. Will could see the doctore was standing very still, eyes on the soldiers, but ears and thoughts seemingly tuned to the conversation.

“Senator Porcius!” Aeliana said as they approached, “Rufina!”

She kissed Rufina on the cheek and offered her hand to Cassius, who kissed it.

“Aeliana Flos,” the senator responded, “I did not know you would be here.”

“To what do we owe this honor, Senator?” Will asked.

Aeliana stood next to Rufina, who whispered to her of Hannibal, and how handsome he looked up close. Aeliana chuckled.

“I have come to claim Hannibal; a slave of Fredo’s who has ended up in your possession.”

“What, no,” Will said. “I bought Hannibal, he belongs to me now.”

Aeliana anxiously looked back and forth between the men.

“You came to me with an offer to buy Hannibal, but I refused, I distinctly remember that conversation,” Fredo said.

“You sold Hannibal to the pit; I bought him from the pit. That makes him mine.”

“The overseer took him to the pit, but no contract was signed,” Fredo explained. “Legally, Hannibal belonged to my house when you paid whatever ruffian was there to take him away.”

“You can’t claim that you didn't knowingly sell him.”

Fredo began to speak, but was interrupted by Cassius.

“Of course he can,” he said. The look of self-satisfaction on his face was unbearable. “The overseer had no document from Fredo, and there is no record of him receiving payment for Hannibal. This was a mistake, an unlawful transaction, and now he has signed a _lawful_ contract with me.”

Cassius gave Will the parchment and his hands shook as he read it.

“I am grateful that you saved the champion from almost certain demise,” Cassius continued. “I would be happy to pay you for your trouble, double what you paid…underground.”

Will looked over at Hannibal. He was still facing the training grounds, but his fists were clenching and unclenching and his jaw was strained.

“You cannot take him,” Will growled.

“Magister Capanna, we are friends,” Cassius said.

Will scoffed.

“I would find it most shameful to have to take you to court, and show the city council that you have refused lawful action in favor of back-alley dealings. Even a man with your name-sake will suffer a dent to your reputation.”

Will trembled with anger.

“You threaten me?” he asked.

“Will…” Aeliana said cautiously.

“You are threatening… you are threatening me…”

“Tread carefully, Capanna,” Cassius warned. He no longer smiled.

“No!” Will’s voice was tight, his face twisted into an uncharacteristic snarl. “You… have no dominion over me. You are a squanderer, who cannot pay his debts, with delusions of supremacy!”

Aeliana thought to walk closer to him, and touch him on the arm as he sometimes needed to be guided away from uncomfortable social situations. His newfound temper shocked her into stillness.

“Were it not for me, this lanista would have you and your daughter wallowing in the tenements!”

Rufina’s cheeks nearly matched the color of her hair. She marched up to Will and slapped him, hard across the face, causing his head to turn away. It seemed to wake him from his moment and he looked at the ground, shaking.

Aeliana could practically feel Hannibal react. She looked at him and an ominous quake moved up her chest. He was not rushing toward them as she thought he might. He stood in one place, facing them. But his expression was uninterpretable. He was standing very straight, his head turned slightly to one side, his mouth open with tongue perched between his teeth. She had never felt more frightened, and she would never be able to explain why.

“Impertinent boy,” Cassius hissed. “Hiding in your villa, swaddling yourself with your father’s money… you know nothing of the affairs of men. I will be calling upon you later, on impending litigation.”

He and Rufina hurried off, but Fredo lingered.

“Apologies,” he said. Will could not even look at him.

“I would appreciate your departure from my home,” he murmured.

“Will Capanna, hear me on this,” he said. “Some slaves are more effort than they are worth.”

“Cowards fear the literate slave,” Will said. “Heaven forefend one might have the capacity to outwit you.”

Fredo shook his head and began to leave.

“He has the capacity to outwit us all, Magister Capanna.”

As he departed, Aeliana walked up to Will and put her arms around him. He barely responded, still glaring at the path away from his villa.

“Would you mind escorting me back to my father’s domus?” she said.

He nodded and called out to Hannibal, who finally approached.

“Please hold down the villa while I am away,” he commanded.

“Dominus.” Hannibal bowed. Will and Aeliana walked toward their carriage.

“I beg your pardon, Dominus,” Hannibal added. “Might I know how long you will be away?”

Will looked back at him quizzically.

“I would like to have time for my men and me to prepare a meal, in your honor.”

He smiled, but there was sadness in his eyes. He felt that Hannibal knew he would have to leave him soon.

“No more than three hours,” he replied.

“Thank you, Dominus,” Hannibal said with another bow. “Godspeed.”

Hannibal watched them climb into their carriage as the driver took his place. As soon as they were on their way, he darted back to the stables and led out a horse. He leapt onto the bare back and galloped off down a back road, kicking it to run ever faster.

“You must be more careful,” Aeliana said as the carriage lumbered toward Rome.

“Porcius is a pig,” Will sniffed.

“A pig in the senate,” she replied. “With, as we all have mentioned, many friends.”

“So I should kowtow to him?”

“Pick your battles,” she said. “Why go to war with him, and possibly destroy your reputation, over a single gladiator?”

“He is my friend!” Will answered.

“Your friend?” She looked at him questioningly.

Will was uncomfortable.

“He needed me, and I helped him, and I know that I will never find any freedman or slave who will show me the loyalty and devotion that he now shows me.”

His voice wavered. Aeliana stared at the backs of his hands sitting on his knees, seeing them tremble. She put her hand on one.

“Will…” she said, hesitating. “What does he mean to you?”

“I just told you.”

“Octavio is a slave most loyal and devoted. He would give up his life for your house. What does _Hannibal_ mean to you?”

Will looked down and flipped his hand over, taking hers and rubbing her knuckles with his thumb. He considered his next words carefully.

“He has insight, and certain… lack of pretense,” he looked up at her and continued, “qualities I knew in my father, and no other man since. When I am with him, I feel as though I can…”

Will put his head back and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in through his nose.

He felt her hand on his cheek. Her face had softened, and the warmth had returned to her eyes.

“So strange,” she said, “The way you see people. To find those familiar traits within a man who has come from nothing but brutality.”

Her tenderness had been sorely missed lately, and he longed to lay his head upon her breast and let her pet him as she would sometimes do. He leaned forward, bowing his head and looking up at her. His breathing deepened as he began to nuzzle her neck. She ran her fingers through his hair, and kissed the top of his head.

“I must confess something, but do not think ill of me,” she said.

“I could never,” Will said as he continued to kiss.

“I have feared… that you do not desire me, the way I desire you.”

Will looked up at her. He pushed a silken curl away from her forehead and took in all of her features. He realized the importance of this moment to Aeliana, and knew that he must reassure her or risk losing her.

“Aeliana,” he whispered, “you know I am not… socially graceful.”

She chuckled and bit her lip.

“How can you not know my feelings for you?” he asked. “How can I better express them?”

She pulled him toward her and kissed him deeply. He relaxed and leaned into her, drawing her petite frame against his own. Her lips were soft, as the rest of her, so profoundly comforting. He reached a hand up and placed it on the bare skin of her collar. She guided it downward, moving his hand over her breast, coaxing him to massage her and push his fingers inside of her dress. He pulled away to look at her.

Aeliana stared back, one hand keeping his on her breast, and the other buried in his short curls. His eyes seemed large and boyish, uncertain. She loved him intensely.

“I…” he stammered, “I do not know how much you want. We are not married.”

She smiled and pecked his lips, over and over.

“It is only the breaking of bread. Not that I wouldn't cherish a husband such as you,” she said. Her words felt like a blanket, soft fur, warm hearth, loving wife, and family. She moved to her knees on the seat, facing him. “I want you to show me feeling. Show me everything that you feel for me and do not hold back.”

Will leaned forward and pressed himself against her, wrapping his arms around her. He kissed the crown of her breasts and squeezed her body tightly, caressing her back with his hands. She sighed happily, and petted his head, pulling lightly on his hair and scalp. Will knew what he wanted from Hannibal. He wanted to be desired, much like Aeliana wanted to be desired. Did the way she felt in his arms; soft, tender, inviting, and yielding, mirror the way he himself felt to Hannibal’s strong embrace? Did her gentle moans and delicate sighs, which made Will feel so dominant and self-assured, have the same effect on his powerful gladiator when he lay back, arched his spine and whispered, “please… please?” In that moment he felt he understood Aeliana; that she was not unlike him in her need to be fulfilled while giving of herself completely. In that moment, he wanted to please her, to give her everything that she needed. He placed his hands on her hips, and lifted her up, positioning her on his lap. Her delighted giggle urged him to continue, and he pushed his hands into the folds of her skirt, opening them and moving his fingers over her bare thighs. She settled into the position, straddling his lap and curving her back as he continued to kiss her neck and collar.

“Show me,” she whispered. He could feel her excitement, empathize, and he felt the hair on his arms and neck stand up. “Show me, show me…”

He reached up and with impassioned movements, pulled the caps of her sleeves down her arms and pushed his hands into the collar of her dress, baring her breasts. He massaged them in his hands as he kissed and sucked and nibbled, fueled by her gasping sounds of approval. Her hands moved down his neck and over his shoulders, clutching at him and searching for skin. He looked up to see her face, and saw longing.

His large wet eyes struck her heart and she kissed him and moved her hips, grinding onto his lap. She smiled when she felt him swell beneath her. She fumbled through his lacerna and tunic until she bared his hips and thighs.  Her hand glided over his cock and she began to stroke him. He pulled her skirt open even more, and slipped his hands between her legs, gently nudging her. She released her grip on him, and began to maneuver his hands, guiding his fingers to where they belonged. He touched her as instructed, and she began to gasp and rock her hips. He moved his hands to her rhythm, watching her face intently. He studied her breasts as her nipples swelled and goose bumps appeared around them. Her head was leaning back now, her neck stretched. She was in rapture, and he was the cause. She moved his fingers deeper inside of her, his index finger to her opening and his thumb still massaging outside. He stroked carefully, observing her body language. Then, when she seemed to be in another place, he ducked his head and took a soft rosy nipple between his lips, and then his teeth. He bit her lightly and she began to moan. The rocking of her hips became more of a shudder.

“Mmm… please…” she whispered, and he felt his body fill with heat. He moved his fingers in and out of her, deeper and quicker, and she clutched his head against her breast. When she began to shudder and spasm and to pull harder on his hair, he took her by the hips again and pulled her against his own. She reached for his cock and began to stroke him again, and then moved herself down onto him, letting him fill her. His groan was muffled by his lips pressed against her pale skin.

The carriage hit a bump in the road, and they bounced. Aeliana chuckled softly and began to ride him, sighing with a contented smile. He smiled back at her, and she held his face in her hands. Her wetness covered his hips and his sweat and sucking, nibbling kisses moistened her skin. They fell together on the carriage seat and tossed and tangled themselves amongst the folds of their pretty clothes. Aeliana’s light, euphoric laugh filled their small space and he whispered as he came into her, “I love you, I do love you, I do.”

The carriage pulled in front of the Flos domus, and they quickly straightened their clothing and ran fingers through their hair.

“How do I look?” Aeliana asked Will with a laugh.

He gazed at her.

“Like my wife.”

She glowed.

“You have my father to speak to.”

“Do you think he would refuse me your hand?” he asked.

“My hand?” she said as she fretted with the collar of her dress, pulling it into place. “He has been pushing my entire self in your direction since we first met.”

Will’s face fell.

“I’m glad for it,” she reassured him. “My father clearly has impeccable taste.”

She grinned and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him.

“Come,” she urged. “We shall speak to him. I can do most of the talking, if you prefer.”

Will chuckled.

“The woman of my dreams!”

 

Cassius and Rufina burst into their atrium, quarreling.

“Can you not have him arrested?” she said.

“Rufina, don’t be a fool,” he said, exasperated.

“Do not call me a fool, father, you raised me.”

She flopped down on the lounge and began to rummage through the fruit bowl for grapes. Cassius called for more wine.

“There is wine,” Rufina said, pointing at the carafe.

“It will be empty soon,” Cassius replied, and poured himself a full glass.

A slave girl brought out a large round jug and began to fill the pitcher.

“Leave it!” he snapped. She obeyed and hurried off.

Rufina rolled her eyes.

“Will Capanna is a little brat,” Cassius muttered.

“He really is,” Rufina said. “I’ve only seen him at the arena twice and the first time he saw Hannibal performed he vomited… _vomited_ , in the amphitheater exit. Now he thinks he wants to own a gladiator, but not let him fight! Just keep him as a pet, I suppose… more exotic than his mangy dogs.”

“Twat,” her father replied.

Rufina laughed.

“Oh, but to own a champion!” she sighed. “One who would actually fight for us, bring us prestige.”

“I owe my soul to Fredo Ligare, now.”

“The jokes on him,” she said, pulling apart a fig. “Yours is already damned.”

The senator cackled and gulped his wine.

Not long after, he had finished the carafe and began to drink directly from the jug. Rufina found it time to retire to her room, and she called out to be waited on. There was no answer, so she began to wander.

“Where is everyone?” she asked.

She looked over at her father, who was muttering in a stupor on the bench.

“By the gods, am I to undress myself?”

Cassius soon faded.

 

Darkness had fallen entirely when Will returned to his home. The night had many turns for him. Possibly losing Hannibal, but making love to Aeliana, and gaining her through clumsy proposal. Her father was delighted, and now Will stumbled a bit, as he stepped down from the carriage, from being supplied with celebratory wine. As he walked toward the villa, he smelled the most enticing aroma coming from the area of the barracks. He saw a glowing light, and the sound of men laughing.

He followed the pleasing senses to the yard, and saw a slab of meat on a spit rotating over the fire pit. Feeling enormously drunk-hungry, he wandered into the gathering where soldiers sat drinking from jugs, eating, and enjoying themselves. Hannibal approached with a broad smile that was very uncharacteristically expressive for him.

“Dominus,” he said with a bow. “Please join us.”

“Absolutely,” he laughed. “That smells… wonderful… right now.”

“It is roasted pork,” he said. “You seemed interested in Chinese culture, so I thought I might prepare something in a style inspired by the region.”

“I apologize for my lateness, I told you no more than three hours, but I was detained.”

“Do not apologize,” he said, carving the meat onto a plate. It had a lacquered exterior, but as he cut into it, juice dripped into the fire and crackled. “The pork has had plenty of time to roast.”

He handed Will a plate and sat next to him on a bench. He placed a jug of good house wine between their feet. Will pulled apart the meat and it was incredibly succulent. He bit into it, and couldn’t help but continue to devour.

“Jove in heaven,” he moaned happily, “what is in this?”

“Honey,” Hannibal replied, “and other spices that Octavio helped me find in the villa kitchen. I hope you do not mind that I helped myself to them.”

“You ask me if I mind? This is delicious!”

Hannibal smiled and watched Will eat. He looked extremely pleased with himself, and an intense fondness came over his face.

“Where is Octavio?” Will asked.

“He ate a bit, but then excused himself,” Hannibal answered.

“Perhaps he was jealous of your culinary eminence,” Will joked. “Octavio is quite the cook, but this, this is magnificent. The sweetness of the honey, with the flavor of the pork, I‘ve never tasted anything like it.”

“You do me great honor,” Hannibal replied.

“You are in good spirits,” Will said, “all things considered.”

“What do you mean, Dominus?”

Will looked at him with a morose expression.

“I assumed you had overheard the conversation between Fredo, Cassius, and I,” he said.

“Oh, yes, I did hear,” Hannibal said, pouring wine into a glass. He offered it to Will.

“Please,” he said gesturing it away, “I’ve had enough tonight, gratitude.”

“Oh?” Hannibal kept the glass, nursing it slowly.

Will paused for a moment then said, “I asked Aeliana’s father for her hand in marriage. He responded with toasts. And then several… five more toasts.”

Hannibal sipped the wine through his teeth, paused, and then nodded.

“I will be honored to call her Domina,” he said.

Will seemed content with that answer.

“Gods willing,” he said with his mouth a bit full, “that you may stay with us.”

“Do not underestimate the gods of my people,” Hannibal answered, the smile returning to his face. “They watch out for their own.”

“May they watch over you, dear friend,” Will replied.

“I find that the gods reward the faithful,” Hannibal said.

“Indeed.”

“There is no better sign of faithfulness than affirming one’s trust,” he continued. “No better affirmation of trust than simply acting on the assumption that they will provide.”

“How is that?”

“I want to show you what I have been working on in my spare time, Dominus. Would you accompany me inside the barracks?”

Will nodded, and put down his plate. He followed Hannibal into the common area, where a small tempering forge was lit, and two metal rods protruded from it. Hannibal retrieved a bit of rubbing charcoal from a nearby table. He removed his wrist guard, revealing the initials of Fredo Ligare on his arm.

“If you will permit me to show you what I had in mind…”

Will leaned over his arm.

“Capanna, it means “rustic homestead.”

“It does.”

Hannibal began to draw on the brand with the charcoal, connecting the F to the L and adding a foot the left of F. The resulting image looked like a very stylized etching of a small house. He then inserted a large “C” in the middle of the house.

“I love it,” Will said with sincerity.

Then Hannibal pulled one of the rods out of the forge. It was glowing hot, with a flat edge.

“You will have to hold it in place long enough to burn the existing brand, so that the scar matches evenly.”

“Hannibal,” Will said, “I don’t think I can brand you.”

“Please, Dominus,” he said. “My only alternative is to cut away my skin.”

Will winced, and took the rod in his hand. Hannibal sat at the table and lay his arm down flat.

“I can’t imagine how much this will hurt,” he said.

“Nothing I haven’t experienced many times over,” Hannibal assured him.

Will put his hand on Hannibal’s wrist and aimed the rod. He pressed it up against the charcoal lines Hannibal had drawn on his arm. His skin sizzled and Hannibal growled, gritting his teeth. Will looked at him, wide-eyed.

“Please continue Dominus,” Hannibal breathed, “before the iron cools.”

Will obliged, completing the top, middle, and bottom lines of the capanna. Then he pushed the iron back into the fire, and removed the second one, which curved at the tip. Hannibal took a deep breath and clenched his teeth. Will pushed the curved iron into the middle of the brand, leaving behind a blackened “C” within the image of the little house. He put away the iron and stared at Hannibal, who was examining the brand. He was very composed, with only beads of sweat on his face to show that he had ever been in pain.

“Does it please you?” Hannibal asked him.

“Very much,” Will answered softly.

“Thank you, Dominus,” Hannibal said with respectful nod. “I bear your proud mark, and now the gods see that I expect to stay. I am happy tonight.”

Will awoke to his dark bedroom. He felt afraid for no identifiable reason. He looked around, examining his comfortable chamber. Suddenly his eyes fell on a corner of the room. Something was wrong, he sensed, but it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. A dark figure stood in the corner, stooping forward, but his face turned upward. Will held his breath. He couldn’t move or speak, but stared at the strange intruder. As he stared, he made out the features of the man’s face.

It was Doctore Ren.

Will felt throbbing pain in his chest from ensuing panic. He could now see the blood dripping from Ren’s crucified hands, chunks of flesh missing from his torso, his crotch bloodied and pierced. His eyes were sunken in, but wide open in a ghastly rage.

Will opened his mouth, attempting to call out for help, but nothing escaped but a pitiful croak. The figure suddenly lurched forward and scrambled across his bed with unnatural speed. His deathly, hate-filled face drew close to his own.

“Where are my children?” he hissed.

Will shook his head.

“Where are my children?!

“I… I don’t know… I don’t know…” Will squeaked.

“LIAR!” Ren screamed, spittle falling on Will’s face. “TELL ME! WHERE HAVE YOU TAKEN THEM?!”

Ren pulled out a knife, and it was shining and curved as Hannibal’s.

“I don’t know where they are!” Will cried out.

Ren plunged the knife into Will’s gut and began to slice, screaming again and again, “WHERE ARE THEY?! WHERE ARE MY CHILDREN?!”

Will sat up in bed with a loud shriek. Daylight poured through the shutters. He heard quick footsteps and then his door opened. A slave girl peeked in.

“Dominus?” she asked.

Will shuddered, wiping away the sweat on his face and neck.

“Nightmare. Only a nightmare.”

 

Cassius Porcius groaned and rolled over on the bench, almost falling off. The nearly-empty jug of wine tipped over and spilled the remainder of its contents. He set it upright and tried to stand, clutching his head.

“Tacitus!” he called out for his vilicus. There was no answer. He got up and walked down the hall to Rufina’s bedroom. Her bed was a mess, but no one was there. “Oh, fuck the gods,” He whispered, pressing his fingers to his brow. He looked into the bathroom, but it was empty as well.

“Is there no one left in this house?!” he screamed. He heard movement in the kitchen, and footsteps coming toward him. It was the cook, Alba.

“Dominus,” she answered.

“Where the fuck is everyone?” Cassius grumbled.

“Tacitus instructed us all to stay in our quarters until you awoke. He said it was at your command.”

“My command?” Cassius asked, and then realized that he couldn't be sure of what he said last night. “Where is Tacitus?”

“I have not seen him, Dominus.”

“Rufina?”

“I do not know, I am sorry, Dominus.”

“Oh for gods’ sake…” Cassius sat again. “Alba, bring me my breakfast.”

“Yes Dominus,” she bowed and went back to the kitchen.

“And tell them all to come back inside!” he called after her.

The house-slaves returned to the main domus, and began cleaning up the dishes, wine, and leftover fruit. One filled a bath for Cassius, while the other went to Rufina’s bedroom to make her bed and clean up the floor where a pile of blankets had gathered. The slave lifted them up and cried out suddenly.

“Must we make such fucking noise?!” Cassius yelled. “Tacitus!”

Slaves began to gather outside of Rufina’s room.

“What is going on?” Cassius asked, pushing his way into her room. On the floor lie a puddle of blood, and a statuette, also covered in blood, bits of scalp, and strands of curly red hair. He stumbled and clutched at the wall.

“Gods!” he shrieked. “Where is Rufina?”

The slaves didn’t move, only stared.

“Tacitus!” Cassius called out. “Someone bring me Tacitus, immediately! And call the guard!”

 

Word of Rufina’s disappearance and apparent murder spread through Rome like tenement fire. Octavio returned to bring the news to Will, but found that Aeliana had already told him. She sat in the atrium in a daze as Will ran out to tell Hannibal.

“Madame Flos,” Octavio said, bowing, “my condolences on the death of your friend.”

Aeliana nodded, barely looking up. She had given Will the news and he had darted out the door without much more conversation. It wasn't that she needed consoling. Rufina was not exactly a friend. It was how he looked when he found out that Senator Porcius was under investigation and therefore was no longer in a prime position to steal away his doctore. He seemed unable to hide a certain relief, enthusiasm even.

“Cassius killing his own daughter,” Aeliana said. “I do not understand.”

“It is only an investigation, Madame,” Octavio said. She locked eyes with him. His tone seemed unsure.

“You doubt the evidence?” she asked.

Interrogators had questioned the slaves at House Porcius. They all said the same thing: that Tacitus, the vilicus, had instructed them to remain away from the main domus until Cassius awoke. That Cassius was drinking heavily and they had heard sounds of quarreling. A witness outside the domus claimed that he saw two men riding away on a horse, with a large parcel draped over the nape of its neck. In the morning the house was a mess, Cassius couldn't remember a thing, and Tacitus remains missing.

“I do not know for certain, what I think Madame,” Octavio said carefully. “The truth will out itself, I am sure.”

She gestured at him to come closer, and he did.

“What is on your mind?”

Octavio looked out the atrium window to where Hannibal stood, waiting for Will to approach.

“Only concern for my dominus’ household,” Octavio said, “after such horrifying news.”

He bowed and began to walk away.

“Octavio,” Aeliana called.

“Madame?”

“What do you think of Hannibal?” she asked.

“He is a gifted doctore, and I enjoy his company.”

“Why did you look at him when I asked you what was on your mind?” she pressed. “And don’t tell me you were looking at Will, I know that wasn't the case.”

Octavio looked extremely uncomfortable. Aeliana patted the cushion next to her on the bench, and he accepted the invitation.

“On the night Dominus took you home, and asked you to be his wife,” Octavio began. “The night Rufina disappeared.”

Aeliana nodded, coaxing him on.

“Will commanded him to hold down the villa. I heard it from the window.”

“Yes, he did,” Aeliana said.

“I looked for him not long after, to ask him about the commotion that had taken place. I did not find him. He was nowhere on the grounds. It was at least two hours before he entered the villa and asked for help finding ingredients and drink in the kitchen. He was preparing a pig.”

Aeliana didn't understand.

“There was not one less pig on the plantation.”

“He hunted? A wild boar, perhaps?”

“When I was a lad, my people were nomadic, due to the warring tribes and the violence that was brought upon any group that didn't have an army to protect them. We ventured out, trying to find a place where we could be safe, and finding none, we began to die. From the cold, wild animals, raiders, and mostly--starvation.”

Aeliana hunched over, somberly listening to Octavio speak.

The adults had experienced starvation during difficult times in their own past. Nothing quite like this, but they could fight through the pangs in their stomachs. We children could not, we began to cry and beg for anything to ease the pain. And when some of us began to die from the starvation, our parents had no choice but to use the flesh of the dead, to save the living.

“Gods,” Aeliana gasped, tears forming in her eyes.

“I have walked through the underworld, and come out the other side. The late Senator Capanna bought me from a cruel owner thirty years ago. He showed me grace I had never experienced.”

Aeliana put her hand on his.

“For over twenty of those years, I've been the vilicus. I have overseen the kitchens, tasted the food of every banquet, and learned every recipe that is to be served to my noble domini. No edible meat native to this land is strange to me. What Hannibal served to the men and to the dominus was not pork. I can’t be sure, though… please, Madame, I tell you I can’t be sure.”

Aeliana’s face filled with horror.

“Octavio,” she whispered, “What are you trying to tell me?”

“That I knew that taste,” he said, “from a memory, stained on my tongue from so many years ago.”

She stood upright, panting.

“Madame, forgive me,” Octavio stood, “It is perhaps the dementia of an old man.”

Aeliana shook her head. She looked out the window to see Will walking back to the villa, with his arm around Hannibal’s back. He looked pleased. Hannibal strode along with confidence, looking down at her betrothed with an expression of knowing. She felt the throes of panic.

“Octavio,” she said, “Please tell Will that I had to return home.”

She walked quickly for the door.

“Madame Flos!” Octavio called after her. She turned to look at him. “My dominus loves you. Please, do not abandon him now, when he needs you most.”

“I simply need to return home, that is all, that is all,” she said, her voice quaking. By the time Hannibal and Will entered the villa, she was gone.

“Octavio!” Will said. “Have you heard the news of Senator Porcius and Rufina?”

“I have, Dominus,” he replied, bowing. “Most gruesome events.”

“Indeed,” Will said, “Have someone bring wine for two to my cubiculum. Enjoy a glass yourself, if you are so inclined. Mornings like these require a certain lack of sobriety.”

The two men entered the cubiculum.

“Dominus,” Octavio said, entering the room with the wine platter. “Fredo Ligare is here, and would like to speak to you.”

“I’m not surprised. Let him in.”

Fredo walked into the cubiculum, leaning heavily on his cane.

“I am here on behalf of my dear friend, Senator Cassius Porcius.”

“Dear friend, oh yes,” Will replied. He had already begun to drink. He offered some wine to Hannibal, who shook his head politely. He made no offer to Fredo.

Fredo sniffed a laugh and looked down.

“The events that took place here a few nights ago were unfortunate.”

“For some,” Hannibal said.

Fredo bristled and looked back at him.

“They are not grounds for ruining a man’s existence.”

“No one ruins Porcius but himself,” Will stated.

“His only daughter has gone missing,” Fredo said in a persuasive tone. “Presumably dead. And now he is under investigation for murder!” He lowered his voice to a half-whisper “There is rumor about that incest was involved.”

Will looked disgusted.

“Perhaps these accusations are founded,” he said.

“They absolutely are not!” Fredo retorted. “They have been circulated by a man who overextends his retaliations!”

“You are implying that I had a hand in this?”

“Who else?” Fredo asked. “I stood right beside you, outside of your villa when you admonished him. You were angry, understandably, but this goes too far, Will.”

He shook his head.

“I have nothing to do with what happened to Rufina.”

“I… did not imply that,” Fredo said, but he sounded as if it wasn't beyond the realm of possibility.

“And I have nothing to do with the investigation of Cassius, nor have I started any rumors as to his involvement in the crime. This is paranoia.”

“Perhaps someone in your household…”

“What?” Will snapped. “Acted without my orders or permission?”

“I am merely suggesting…”

“That I am not dominus of my own house?”

Will gestured so strongly that the wine splashed out of his glass onto his hand.

“I will take my leave, Magister Capanna,” Fredo said with a bow.

As he headed for the door, Hannibal reached out and opened it for him, prominently displaying his forearm. Fredo looked at it, and back at Will.

“He bears your mark,” Fredo said.

“He is the doctore of my guard,” Will answered.

“Doctore rules the men in the barracks,” Fredo said, “and dominus rules over all.”

“Of course.”

“Yes,” Fredo mused as he limped through the doorway. “Ideally.”

He eyed Hannibal, who gave him a secretive wink.

“I still have legal standing to reclaim Hannibal,” Fredo added, turning to face Will again. “If I so choose. I can’t imagine why I would choose such a thing, but it’s something to keep in mind.”

When Fredo left, Will began to rant.

“I have had it with all these threats and propositions! I've had it with _people_! It is why I have spent most of my years in my cubiculum with only dogs to keep me company. Why I ever stepped out of my villa in the first place is beyond me!”

Hannibal came close to him and Will relaxed at the sensation of his body heat.

“For what it’s worth,” Hannibal said softly, “I for one am happy you decided to step out.”

He lifted his hand to Will’s face and brushed his neck and jaw line with the back of his fingers. He brought his own face close, and then Octavio stepped into the doorway. Will pulled away.

“Begging your pardon, Dominus,” Octavio said.

“Yes what is it, Octavio?”

“Senator Cassius Porcius has arrived,” he answered. “He wishes to speak with you.”

“Slavers and pigs, constantly at my doorstep,” Will muttered and took a drink.

Octavo led Cassius in. The man looked like he hadn't slept in days.

“Will Capanna!” he called out as he entered the cubiculum.

“Cassius Porcius!” Will answered facetiously. “Your friend the lanista was only just here.”

“I have come to apologize, most sincerely, for my actions recently.”

“Apology accepted,” Will replied, “Goodbye.”

Hannibal grinned and followed Will from the room. Cassius darted after them.

“My vilicus has gone missing. My daughter…” he choked back tears, “My daughter is gone… her blood is…”

Will stopped and turned back toward him. He felt a twinge of pity for the man.

“Investigators have found a journal in my daughter’s belongings,” he buried his face in his hands. “It talks of… inappropriateness.”

Will cleared his throat anxiously.

“Rumors are going around, saying that she was pregnant, that we quarreled.”

“A journal?” Will asked.

“Yes,” Cassius replied, and his eyes began to glare. His voice became gravelly. “A falsified, planted journal, of course! My daughter would never write such horrific lies about our relationship.”

“Have you brought this up with the investigators?”

“Of course I have!” Cassius screamed. Then he composed himself. “Apologies, Magister Capanna, I am under great duress.”

“So it would seem,” Will replied. “I wish I could help you, but this is none of my business.”

“Please!” Cassius stammered. He approached Will, and Hannibal reached out to put his hand on the man’s chest, keeping him at bay. Cassius looked down and saw the brand on his arm. He looked back at Will and dropped to his knees.

“Please, I’m begging you, Magister Capanna,” he sobbed. “Cease these retaliations against me, and I will speak against you no more. I will be in your debt, please just take this from my head!”

“You have been listening to that snake, Fredo Ligare. He has accused me to you?”

“He merely points out the obvious,” Cassius replied. “I will do anything you ask of me, Magister Capanna, please recant these allegations.”

“I have made no such allegations, Senator!”

“Please!” Cassius hobbled toward him on his knees, and grabbed the hem of Will’s garments. “You have no children. You do not know what it means to be accused of such a ghastly thing, it is unbearable.”

“Cassius,” Will said quietly, “I swear to you… I am not behind this. Fredo Ligare has slandered me, and perhaps it is he who has slandered you as well.”

“Why would he do this?” Cassius asked. “He has nothing to gain from it, and plenty to lose.”

“I do not know the cause of your suffering. Please, get up.”

Cassius stood, tears staining his face.

“No, no,” he grumbled, shaking his head. “This is not Fredo’s doing. This is diabolical. And he who has undertaken such treachery will suffer threefold at the hands of the fates.”

Hannibal put his hand to Cassius’ chest again, backing him away from Will.

“I must ask you to leave, on behalf of my dominus,” Hannibal said. “May your hardships come to an end soon.”

Cassius looked at Hannibal, and then his face filled with hatred. He spat on him, and stormed out.

Hannibal picked up a cloth from beside the wine carafe and glasses, and gently wiped away Cassius’ spit from his face.

“Fredo has poisoned Cassius’ mind,” he said. “He must be held accountable for his ruinous slander against you, Dominus.”

“He will.”

A cry rang out from the yard, and Hannibal and Will rushed outside. Cassius had pulled a sword from an unsuspecting guard and held it aloft. Hannibal drew his and ran toward him.

“For my Rufina, the only possession I truly held dear! My blood is on the grounds of House Capanna!”

He pointed the sword to his heart and fell over upon it, impaling himself.

 

Will sat with Hannibal on the steps to his villa. He stared disbelievingly as Octavio oversaw guards lifting Cassius’ body into a carriage. A puddle of blood was indeed on the grounds, soaking into the dirt. A slave approached and began to dig the bloody ground into a wheelbarrow and push it away.

“Hannibal,” Will said thoughtfully, “I need to ask you something.”

“Anything, Dominus.”

“When we went to see Fredo, after Ren had attacked him, he told me that Ren was asking for his children.”

“I had heard about that,” Hannibal responded.

“But Fredo claims that they are in a villa rustica, being schooled.”

“For all I am aware, that is true.”

“Why did Ren believe otherwise?”

“I cannot say, Dominus,” Hannibal answered. “Perhaps he hadn't heard from them in so long, he began to have his doubts, and it clouded his mind.”

Will nodded.

“Do you have any idea where the villa rustica is?”

“No, I am sorry Dominus. Fredo never mentioned the location to me.”

“Do you know the children?”

“I never met them,” Hannibal replied. “I only know that their late mother was Hebrew, and her son and daughter are named Jonah and Abigail.”

Will continued staring as the carriage brought Cassius’ body back to Rome where it belonged.

“Why do you ask?”

“I intend to bring charges of defamation against Fredo Ligare,” Will said. “I want to make sure that those children are, in fact, safe.”

“Defamation charges only stand if the accused cannot provide evidence that his words held reason.”

“What evidence could Fredo provide?”

“He is treacherous,” Hannibal warned. “He could surely fabricate something.”

“So what am I to do?” asked Will.

“While I was under House Ligare,” Hannibal explained, “I was put in charge of a few unsavory matters for Fredo.”

“Fredo mentioned that you helped him with legal issues.”

Hannibal continued, “I was asked to keep tabs on some transactions. I am ashamed that I was made to do it, but I obeyed. I know where Fredo keeps the record of these transactions. If you allow me to fetch them, you can provide them to the council and it will prove that he is a disreputable individual. You will surely win your case.”

“How will you gain entrance to Fredo’s property?” he asked.

“The records were kept off-villa, in a house nearby.”

Will blinked.

“You are incredibly resourceful, Hannibal.”

“Yes, Dominus.”

“Please, retrieve the records. Fredo must be silenced before any more harm is done.”

 

When the council gathered, Senator Metellus acted as chairman. Will sat in the balcony overlooking the basilica floor. Fredo’s cane clicked on the marble as he sauntered in. He didn’t appear to be concerned.

“Fredo Ligare, you are being charged with defamation against Will Capanna. What say you in your defense?’

“That the advice I gave to Senator Porcius was well founded, and cannot be considered defamation.”

“You advised Senator Cassius Porcius that Will Capanna was responsible for the investigation against him and planted evidence in his home.”

“The both of us had equal suspicion of Magister Capanna.”

“Senator Porcius lies dead now because of the paranoia that filled his head.”

“A most tragic circumstance,” Fredo replied. “One that I wish I could have prevented.”

“Will Capanna charges that it was your whispering in his ear that lead him to lose his grip on reality, and made him feel as though he must kill himself.”

“Outrageous,” said Fredo.

“But you do admit that you made these accusations against Will Capanna to Senator Porcius?”

“Yes, but I intend to testify as to why these accusations were reasonable.”

“We still have to address the matter of whether or not your words are admissible in court.”

Why shouldn't they be?” Fredo asked.

“We have received evidence that you have in the past, and possibly currently, prostituted your female slaves, for a fee.”

Fredo looked stunned.

“I train and sell gladiators,” he replied, shaking his head, “I am not a pimp.”

Senator Metellus pulled a small book in front of him and thumbed through it.

“We have been given this ledger, detailing your female slaves, clients, and rates…”

“What is that? I have no such ledger,” Fredo insisted. “The only female slaves I own are domestics.”

“This evidence was taken from your household, and it bears your signature and seal.”

Fredo approached and looked down at the book. He blinked and stared, utterly confused.

“That’s not my…” he looked at the signature. “That is my signature… But that isn't my ledger…”

“Can you explain why you would sign a ledger that isn't yours? The ledger of a whore-monger, stamped with your seal?”

Fredo stammered and looked up at Metellus.

“I didn't sign this. The signature looks like mine… but…”

“Fredo, this evidence has been given to us from a legitimate source, and we find it compelling.”

“Wait… who?” he continued to stammer but to no avail.

“We have no choice but to declare you, Fredo Ligare, _infamia_ , and as such, your testimony cannot be heard by this court.”

“What?” Fredo gasped. He stepped back and shook his head.

“In the matter concerning Will Capanna, I declare his accusations of defamation against you valid. I am awarding him your villa, ludus, and estate, at his discretion.”

“No… no…”

“I also order you to be held briefly, awaiting your sentence of corporal punishment in the public arena.”

Fredo shook his head violently.

“No, please… this isn't right… this is treachery. Councilors, I beg of you, I am under attack!”

“No, Fredo,” Metellus sighed, “you are under arrest.”

“Please!” Fredo called out as two guards approached him. “This cannot be! I have done nothing wrong!”

“Magister Capanna,” Metellus said, and turned toward Will as Fredo was removed from the room. “I apologize for all of this. I knew your father. He was a noble man, and a benefactor to all of Rome. He spoke very highly of you, and often. I am sorry that you had to be called here and listen to such accusations against you.”

“Quite all right,” Will replied. “It is done now.”

“Yes,” Metellus replied. “As I have said, you may claim Fredo’s estate, and you will be able to see him be publicly scourged for his actions against you. If you have any further requests as to how that should be done, I will hear them now.”

“I have one request,” Will answered. “That you allow the doctore of my personal guard, Hannibal, to implement the scourge, in the name of my house.”

Metellus smiled.

“Reasonable and well-earned,” he replied. “Your man will do the honors, when it comes time.”

 

This amphitheater was small, but the seats were filled with spectators eager to see their favorite gladiator perform in a new type of scenario. Aeliana’s face was grim. The horrors of a public scourge did not suit her personal philosophy, but she felt a strange need to bear witness to this particular interaction between her betrothed and his new favored confidant. Her father has asked her why she had not seen Will in a few days, and she could not give him an answer. He urged her to return. She and Will were about to sit in the balcony when a _familia urbana_ approached them.

“Will Capanna,” he said, bowing, “Senator Metellus requests the honor of your company in the senatorial box.”

Aeliana and Will obliged and joined Metellus, who stood to greet them.

“Magister Capanna, Aeliana Flos, it is a pleasure,” he said.

“The pleasure is ours,” Aeliana answered. “How kind of you to offer us your company.”

“I’m afraid I have an agenda,” Metellus answered somberly as they all took their seats. Will stiffened. He only wished to enjoy his triumph and the sight of Hannibal performing, and return home.

“How may we serve you?” Aeliana asked.

“Eh,” Metellus looked back and forth between Will and Aeliana, seemingly confused as to why she was doing the speaking for them.

“How may we serve you?” Will repeated.

“Please, let me get us refreshment,” Metellus said. He called to his slave to pour wine for himself and his guests. As he did this, Aeliana leaned close to Will and whispered in his ear.

“The favorable ruling against Fredo may have been in anticipation for this ‘agenda.’”

Will grunted.

“Now, to business,” Metellus said when they had their drinks. “I am sure you have heard word of the rebel Spartacus and his army _fugitivus_.”

“It has come to my attention, yes,” Will answered.

“It has come to the attention of the highest in Rome,” Metellus explained, “and we are all eager to see this rebellion quashed, and peace restored to the republic.”

“As are we all,” Aeliana replied. She looked out at the arena where stood in the center, a wooden arch with shackles dangling from the top beam.

“Unfortunately, Rome’s resources are finite, unlike Spartacus’ continuous recruitment of rebel slaves. Your assistance in financing a special military auxiliary would be put to good use, and also rewarded, with a position of proconsul.”

Aeliana’s eyes widened and she looked at Will. He seemed a bit uncomfortable with the idea of social and political advancement.

“This is an immense honor,” she murmured, more to Will than to the Senator.

“Yes,” Will replied, hurriedly because he saw Hannibal walking toward the center of the theater grounds. He stood beside the arch, with his hands folded neatly in front of him. “I will see what I can do. I’ll have Octavio draw up papers.”

“Gratitude,” Metellus replied. “We will also speak to Senator Marcus Licinius Crassus, which I do not look forward to. The man has an army we might be able to persuade him to lend us.”

“We wish you luck,” Aeliana said. “Rome has seen enough death as of now.”

Metellus nodded at her.

“If you’ll excuse me one moment, I will announce the event.”

The senator rose to his feet and lifted his hands, quieting the crowd.

“Citizens of Rome!” he called out. “The man brought before you today sought to strike discord among his far nobler countrymen through deceit and slander. The honorable House Capanna has chosen their esteemed doctore and former champion of the gladiatorial arena to deliver punishment to the condemned.”

Aeliana glanced at Will to see the distinct look of pride on his face as he watched his gladiator prepare to defend his name. Hannibal turned his face upward toward his dominus, and then bowed to him as the crowd offered a jubilant cheer. He turned to see Fredo emerging from the under-works. Two soldiers gripped him by the arms as he staggered out, unshaven and dressed in a ragged tunic. The crowd booed and their numerous voices created a deep, foreboding sound that caused Aeliana’s stomach to lurch.

The senator continued, “Hannibal, this man sought to defame your own noble dominus! You have been given instruction to scourge him, showing only enough mercy to sustain his wretched life.”

Hannibal smiled and gave Fredo a facetious gesture to approach. The spectators laughed. Will leaned forward to see Fredo’s face, for he noticed his lips were moving. But what was he saying?

Hannibal stood still with a placid expression, head cocked, as Fredo walked toward him. Will tried to read the lanista’s lips, but it was no use. He could see that his eyes were wide, but with shock rather than just fear of the pain that would commence. Fredo reached out and pointed at Hannibal, and began screaming at him. The crowd was too noisy. Will could only hear the sound of his voice, but could not identify the words. He then saw Hannibal smirk at Fredo, and say something back. Fredo shrieked and pulled away from the guards that had grown apathetic from lack of threat. He ran toward Hannibal, thrashing his fists wildly. Hannibal stepped quickly but nonchalantly to one side, not even raising a hand as Fredo stumbled past him. The crowd burst into laughter. Fredo bent over, crying, and Hannibal just looked down at him with subdued amusement.

“For mercy’s sake, Hannibal, get this over with,” Aeliana muttered.

The guards darted forward and pulled Fredo to his feet, then chained his arms above his head to the top beam. Hannibal sauntered toward him and pulled away the strings of his tunic, then dropped it to the sand. Fredo buried his face in his arm, humiliated.

Will tried not to lean forward too far; to let his fiancée see his excitement or his intense arousal. He felt her eyes on him, but he could not look away from his splendidly dominant and sadistic doctore as he stripped Fredo naked.

Hannibal picked up the whip and ran his fingers over the lashes. He stared at Fredo until his former dominus looked back at him, eyes wet and pleading. Then he reeled back his arm and let the whip fly against Fredo’s bare stomach and chest. He screamed and leapt back as much as his chains would allow. Hannibal struck him again, and again, until Fredo collapsed. He hung by his arms with his toes dragging in the sand as he twitched and cried out with each lash. Then Hannibal stopped. He watched Fredo until the man stood himself up, leaning forward with his head down. He walked around to his back and began again.

Will gasped and tried to control his breathing, but his lungs felt tight. Hannibal needed no command to withhold mercy. His face was serene, but determined. His body and posture held such elegant poise as he pulled back and released the whip, balancing the force of his lash with his opposite arm upheld. Drops of blood began to spatter upon the clean white sand. The sound of Fredo’s screams dulled to a hum in Will’s ears. His eyes passed over Hannibal’s controlled movements, his toned arms and shoulders, and his calm face which was only momentarily touched by a tiny sneer with each forward movement. It was similar to how his face looked while he took Will in the bath, a feral snarl passing over his lips with each thrust. He craved him now, more than ever before. He wanted to be the source of all of his beastly pleasures.

Finally Hannibal stopped the scourge of Fredo, who now could not even attempt to stand up again. The lanista’s face was drenched with tears and bloody red stripes created hash marks all over his front and back. Hannibal removed his famous curved knife from his waistband and the crowd began to roar. The guards looked around, unsure of whether they should stop this. Senator Metellus gestured at them to stay. Then Hannibal carefully, almost tenderly, opened Fredo’s mouth and reached inside. Fredo tried to scream, but his voice choked as Hannibal gripped his tongue, pulled it from his mouth, and sliced it out. A chant rose up, as it always had before when Hannibal the Cannibal vanquished his foes in the arena.

“Eat, eat, eat!” the spectators called.

Hannibal turned and looked at Will, lifting the slanderous tongue as an offering to him. Will stood to his feet and watched Hannibal keep still, holding up his prize and waiting; not for the approval of the crowd, not for the decision of the Senator, but for his dominus’ command. Will leaned against the balcony and felt the glory of the moment rush over him. He nodded.

Immediately, Hannibal put the severed tongue to his teeth and bit into it, maintaining eye contact with Will as he devoured it and swallowed.

Blood dribbled from Fredo’s mouth as he hung limp, his face turned to the ground. The guards gestured for his slaves to come out, and they held him up as he was cut down. Aeliana stood and watched them cover his nakedness with a robe and carry him out. He was motionless and bleeding terribly. Will looked only at his doctore, and smiled.

Aeliana was quiet in the carriage, and she made no eye contact with Will. After a long period of awkward silence, Will cleared his throat.

“You are unhappy,” he said.

“I feel as though,” she said, and faltered. “I feel as though I do not know you, as well as I had hoped.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are not the same,” she said. Her voiced cracked a bit as she looked out the window at nothing.

“I do not know what you want from me,” he replied. “You seem to enjoy the idea of me being a social figure, being a proconsul, attending functions, but I have done all these things and you are disappointed.”

“I would sit with you in your garden with your dogs every day, and never drag you into the world, if that is what you wish,” she said.

“If only.”

“To see you inflicting pain on a man who is only a political enemy and to allow Hannibal to mutilate him and... The Will Capanna I knew months ago would be appalled.”

“His words…”

“His words were no threat to you!” she rebuked. “No one, aside from Senator Porcius, now dead, believed him. You destroyed Fredo. On principle.”

“Fredo is not a good man.”

“But you are!” Aeliana declared, finally looking at him. “I believe that you are a good man! I believe that you are a man who derides suffering and offers mercy. Who does not cherish the devastation of others.”

Again silence fell as the carriage bumped along the road.

“I will not seize Fredo’s belongings,” he whispered. Aeliana sniffed.

“There is only one last thing I want from Fredo,” he continued.

“What is that?” she asked.

“That he tells me what has happened to his former doctore’s children. So that I may see that they are well cared for.”

Aeliana dabbed a tear away from her eye.

“Will you threaten him?” she asked.

“No,” Will answered. “I merely hope that he will tell me, for their sake, and to put this whole event behind us.”

Aeliana nodded and held Will’s hand for the rest of the ride to her home.

 

When Will heard the sound of training in the barracks yard, he wandered out of his villa. Hannibal had returned and was overlooking the guards, his arms crossed and his whip attached to his belt. Will stared at it, the way it jostled a bit when Hannibal moved quickly to give instruction. He walked up to the fence beside the yard and watched until Hannibal noticed his presence and bowed to him.

“Dominus.”

Will shivered.

“Perhaps you should rest for the remainder of the afternoon, you've had an eventful day,” he said with a smirk.

Hannibal showed him his rare wide smile.

“Join me,” Will said, and turned back toward the villa.

“Yes, Dominus,” Hannibal replied. He called out to the guards to continue training until supper, and quickly joined Will at his side.

“How fare the men?” Will asked.

“They have falsely advertised themselves,” Hannibal scoffed. “But they learned from that.”

“I’m sure by now they regret having overstated their skills.”

Hannibal glanced back at the yard before they entered the villa.

“Deeply,” he said, and grinned at the young dominus.

Will faced him and reached out to toy with the handle of the whip on Hannibal’s belt. Hannibal cocked his head and looked at him thoughtfully.

“Join me in my _cubiculum_ ,” Will said.

Hannibal followed him into the room and Will poured a glass of wine. He offered it to Hannibal, who gladly accepted, and then poured another for himself.

“You enjoyed punishing Fredo,” Will stated.

“For the honor of my dominus,” Hannibal said, and sipped his wine. He let it linger in his mouth and then swallowed with a delicate smack.

Will smiled and watched his appraisal of the drink.

“That’s not how I mean,” he said in a softer voice.

Hannibal came closer to him and turned the hip that bore the whip toward Will.

“You imply that I take pleasure in causing the suffering of others.”

Will reached out and removed the whip from Hannibal’s waistband. It tugged at his belt a bit as he pulled it from him, creating a satisfying scraping leather sound. He was surprised at how heavy it felt in his hand, as he had seen Hannibal wield it with the deftness and fluidity that one might wield a quill pen. He noticed that Hannibal was looking at him with narrowed eyes, and he felt suddenly ashamed again. The man had a way of making him realize how obvious and naked his thoughts were to him. He shook his head and handed the whip back to the man.

Hannibal took it by the wooden handle and gripped the leather strips in his hand, pulling them tight. He stared at the stretched lashes, thinking. Will gulped his wine and set it down on the desk, walking away from him.

“There is pleasure to be found in all things,” Hannibal said. There was a curious depth to his voice that caused Will to want to be near him again, but he stayed on his side of the desk. Hannibal continued, “We must all search for balance. Those who have been immersed wholly in suffering seek gratification, and those who have experienced copious indulgence, seek pain.”

As Hannibal spoke he turned away from the desk, rolling the whip in his hand and steadily lowering his voice, coaxing Will to come closer in order to hear.  When he approached, Hannibal stepped toward him suddenly, looming over him.

“Do you crave balance?” he asked.

Will looked up at Hannibal as he felt his personal space being forcibly invaded. It was different from the night in the bath, where he felt control over the situation. He had pressed upon him, partially clothed, while Hannibal stood naked, wounded, weak, vulnerable, and having just been rescued from hell. This new context was alarming, seeing that the dignified slave was ready and willing to be the initiator, and he practically vibrated with strength and confidence. Not to mention, Will still wasn't sure what the man felt behind his subdued exterior. Will looked downward, trying to observe the man’s body language, anything to make him feel like he had the upper hand, or at least stood on equal ground. He felt fingers underneath his chin, lifting his face upward. Hannibal’s eyes perforated the already frail veneer of superiority and control Will attempted to construct.

“Whatever you wish, Dominus,” he said. Will looked up at the beams in his cubiculum ceiling.

Hannibal didn't need further instruction, and his decisiveness without verbal command made Will feel deliciously nervous. He put the whip down on the desk, pulled Will’s lacerna off of him, and twisted the long narrow cloth into a rope which he flung over one of the beams. He then took Will’s hands and bound them together with one end. Will began to tremble. Hannibal grabbed the opposite end of the cloth which dangled from the beam and pulled, lifting Will’s arms above his head. He released a quaking murmur as Hannibal pulled harder, stretching him upward toward the ceiling, nearly on his toes. Then he tied the cloth rope to itself and looked Will over. The young dominus’ eyes were squeezed shut. Hannibal patted him on the cheek, and he opened them again. He was clearly afraid, but he didn't attempt to stop what was happening to him. He stared quietly as Hannibal began to strip his tunic away from him, much like he had done to Fredo in the arena.

There was no crowd here to watch him be stripped naked, no condemning eyes upon him, no one to laugh or cheer at his suffering, but he understood the man’s humiliation. Hannibal’s face was touched with restrained amusement. He took his whip in hand and brushed the leather strips against Will’s torso. The young man was shaking and sweating.

“W-wait,” he said, and Hannibal narrowed his eyes once more. Will was out of breath, trying hard to swallow. He peered around his bound arms at Hannibal. “I can’t have marks. Someone will see.”

“I will leave only temporary welts, Dominus,” Hannibal said in a soft voice, leaning close to Will. He could feel the breath of his words on his moist face. Will could only nod, quivering noticeably. Hannibal backed away, giving himself plenty of room to move. He glanced over Will’s body and smirked at his erection. The small grin made Will whimper, and he was further humiliated by how pathetic he must sound. He remembered how Fredo had looked in the theater, shrieking and pulling back with each blow, how he tried desperately to hide his face and nudity, but the pain had stolen any last shred of dignity from him. Will didn’t know why, but he felt tears began to fill his eyes.

“I haven’t even started yet, Dominus,” Hannibal said in a wicked tone.

Will tried to control his shaking, but it only made his breathing come out in strained gasps. When Hannibal reeled back his arm, and took his balanced stance, Will cried out. A deep blush filled his face when Hannibal laughed and lowered his whip.

“Wait,” Will repeated. Hannibal pulled his arm back again, but only a minor distance this time. “I… I don’t think I can… please…”

Hannibal thrashed the whip horizontally across Will’s belly. He lurched and his mouth flew open, his eyes wide. It wasn't a heavy lash as it left only pink welts, but it stung terribly. Hannibal waited merely a second before thrashing the whip back in the opposite direction. He belted the whip back and forth, side to side, moving his way up Will’s stomach to his chest. Will pulled away, but with the short length of the cloth rope, he was only able to move back slightly and it raised him to his toes. When Hannibal laid the lash across his chest, and they struck his nipples, stifled whimpers turned into cries. Hannibal stopped and tilted an ear to the door, pausing a moment before picking up a cloth next to the wine carafe and stuffing it into Will’s mouth.

“Hannibal!” Will choked out right before he was gagged. He shook his head, but Hannibal continued. Any fear Will had felt before now was miniscule in comparison. Now he was truly at his mercy, and Hannibal was not in the least bit afraid of his master’s position over him. Hannibal worked the whip back down his chest and to his belly, and the lashes struck over existing welts. Now the sting became an unbearable searing sensation, and Will couldn't hold back tears falling down his face and chin. Again and again Hannibal struck him, until the entire front of his torso was a blotchy welt tinged with delicate stripes of red.

He stopped and admired his work, touching the most sensitive areas of Will’s skin. Will gazed at him through his arms, his face drenched in tears and sweat. He shook his head again, whimpering through his nose. Hannibal looked down at the young man’s cock, now shriveled due to fear and pain. He clicked his tongue, tucked his whip under his arm, and reached down to fondle him. Will breathed heavily and closed his eyes. Hannibal’s touch aroused him and the mixture of endorphins brought him much-needed relief. He moaned into his gag as Hannibal stroked him to erection once more. Then Hannibal took hold of his whip and walked around to his backside. Will followed him with fearful eyes and when he stood behind him he tried to twist around, but Hannibal pushed him forward again. He pleaded to him through the gag, and Hannibal chuckled.

Again, Hannibal began to lash the whip back and forth, back and forth, this time across Will’s shoulder blades. Will gripped the cloth rope in his hands, giving himself comforting leverage, but also pulling himself up on his toes so that he was forced to teeter to maintain balance.

The fondling that Hannibal had given him was bringing the sting of the lash a new kind of intensity. Every sensation seemed to meld together; the persistent burn on his front, the individual biting stings on his back, the effect of the degradation and helplessness, the lingering feel of Hannibal’s wanton examinations, all creating a delirious clarity of the mind. The whip struck now across his buttocks, causing him to lurch forward and twist about. And then up again, back and forth, with a “thwack… thwack… thwack…” As the lashes struck again over already welted skin, he could concentrate on nothing more than the horrible, mind-numbing burn.

Then it stopped. Will hung by his wrists, clutching the cloth rope in his hands. His knees had given out and his feet were dragging on the floor. He became aware of the end, and realized that he had been sobbing. For how long, he did not know, but he couldn't stop now even though the thrashing had ended.

Hannibal reached around and pulled the damp cloth out of Will’s mouth. He gasped and tried to regain his composure. He felt Hannibal tenderly dragging the back of his knuckles over his painful back. He traced his fingers over particularly raised welts and red areas, surveying the effect he had created. Will looked behind him and licked his parched lips. Hannibal noticed and went to fetch his wine glass, filled it, and brought it to his master’s mouth. Will slowly lifted himself to his feet and gulped the wine. A bit trickled down his chin and neck. Hannibal put the glass aside and wiped Will’s face with his former gag. He dabbed away the wine, and then his tears, and the sweat on his brow. Then Hannibal began to run his rough hands over his body. Will winced when he brushed over his nipples with his fingernails.

“Hannibal,” he whispered. “Please say you are finished with me.”

Hannibal grinned, and Will began to shake again and his breath became ragged.

“Oh… please…” he begged, but was interrupted by a forceful kiss. Hannibal’s hand dropped down and he began to fondle Will once more, lightly pulling and stroking his cock. The endorphins rushed through his body, mingling with the pain and every confusing emotion and desire he felt, and he was high. He felt his body hum and glow as a buzzing sound filled his ears. He went limp, but Hannibal held him up against him as he groped. Then he felt his arms being lowered a bit, so that his hands were level with his shoulders. Hannibal was behind him again, and was pushing his legs apart. Will looked over his shoulder in a daze. Hannibal spat into his hand and then pushed his fingers between his legs, probing and lubricating him.

Will’s mouth hung open as he furrowed his brow and shivered from the touch. Hannibal put a hand on Will’s upper back, below his neck and pushed him down and forward so that his arms were pulled backward and his face was aimed to the floor. He kicked his legs apart even further, and pushed his fingers inside of him.

Will moaned and twitched. He could barely pull his thoughts together. He felt intensely drunk, though he had little to drink. Hannibal’s weighty hand stayed on his upper back, keeping him in a stooped position. He gasped when he felt his cock inside of him, filling him up with yet another overwhelming sensation. Hannibal fucked him as frail chirps emitted from the back of Will’s throat with his thrusts. All the young man could do was look over his shoulder, rubbing his face against his arm, mouth open with each short whimper. Hannibal pressed his belly and chest against Will’s back, shoving himself deeper and fucking him faster. He bit his lip and snarled and groaned. Will watched him with blurring vision. He blinked several times, spiraling further into a trance. He heard Hannibal growl and then moan, and felt him cum inside of him, felt the heat between his legs and the weight lift up off his back and shoulders.

He remained stooped forward, and lost awareness of his surroundings until he felt himself standing up and his arms dropping to his sides. Hannibal had untied him, and was supporting him as he brought him to the couch. He lay him down, and Will shuddered at the feel of the byssus cloth cushion against his raw skin. He tasted more wine being dribbled into his mouth, and a blanket pulled over him. Then he felt the embrace of his tormentor who lied down next to him on the couch, spooning against him, cradling him, and kissing the back of his neck.

 

Mentioning Ren’s children had coaxed Aeliana back into Will’s company. They spoke of turning one of the spare cubicula into a classroom, and Aeliana admitted that she relished the idea of being a teacher and caretaker for the orphans. All that remained was urging Fredo to tell him where they were.

Will helped Aeliana up into the carriage, and then climbed in himself. When he sat back he winced a bit, and she looked at him with concern.

“Pain?” she asked.

“It is but a sunburn,” he replied.

She discreetly peered through the opening in the side of his tunic and saw red lash-marks curving around his side. She quickly looked ahead. 

When they arrived and asked to speak to Fredo, they were told that he would not have any visitors.

“I am Will Capanna, I have authority to seize these grounds and all property within. He will see me.”

Again, the two made their way into the villa. Fredo was reclined on a couch, covered in blankets. He was a pitiful sight. When he saw Will and Aeliana, he moaned and looked toward the wall.

“Fredo,” Aeliana said in a kind voice, “we come in good faith.”

He scoffed.

“I will tell you now, Fredo,” Will said. “I do not intend to fully sue you.”

Fredo looked back at him. His vilicus brought forth a parchment, quill, and ink, and lay them on the table before him. He began to write.

_What do you want?_

“To clear my conscience,” Will said. “And to eliminate this feud between us.”

 _It is eliminated, along with my tongue_.

“I cannot give you back your tongue, Fredo,” Will replied. “I can, however, allow you to keep your possessions and your business.”

_Where is your gladiator?_

“He is in my barracks, keeping my home secure.”

_Did he not wish to clear his conscience as well?_

“Naturally he does not hold you in high esteem,” Will said, “after all of the beatings you gave him, to put him into submission.”

 _He told you that I beat him?_ Fredo wrote.

“I saw his scars,” Will answered.

_He had those scars when he came to me. Hannibal was always a well-behaved slave, to my knowledge. I had no reason to punish him like that._

Will glared at him.

_Although, if there is only one thing I regret in this wretched life of mine, it is bringing Hannibal into my ludus._

“Fredo,” Aeliana said, “we would like to speak to you about Doctore Ren’s children.”

_What about them?_

“We want to find them, and give them a good home. I myself will teach them and make sure they are taken care of,” she answered.

Fredo lifted the parchment to his face and scratched upon it with the quill while they waited. He set it down, and they read:

_You have a cannibal in your villa. I cannot, in good conscience, allow innocent children to be taken there. Gratitude for your mercy, but I must ask you to leave all of us in peace._


End file.
